


Once a Red

by gritsinmisery



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-26
Updated: 2008-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gritsinmisery/pseuds/gritsinmisery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam receives a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once a Red

**Author's Note:**

> Post-S01E05.

Once a Red

The bundle took pride of place on Sam's desk, front and center, in a normally clear space. It took up no more room than a piece of paper would, was four inches or so deep, wrapped in several layers of white tissue paper, and tied with twine in a knot; no sissy bow for this package. _And Sam hadn't put it there._

"Chris, get the bomb squad up here," he demanded.

"For what, Boss?" Chris didn't bother looking up from his comic, or taking his feet off his desk. "Never known a bomb to be wrapped so neatly, and don't they usually tick? Don't hear nowt."

"Just open it, Boss," Ray concluded, stubbing out his cigarette. "Bloody nancy boy," he muttered under his breath.

Sam touched the package lightly with his fingertips, and was rewarded with nothing but the crinkling of paper and the knowledge that whatever was inside was fabric, judging by the give. Shrugging mentally, he snipped the twine and unfolded the tissue.

It was a red-and-white striped United scarf. A good one, manufactured, wool knit, far finer than the ones his mum had knit for him and his dad. Sam ran his palm down it, eyes glazing over with half-a-dozen memories for a moment. Then he gave himself a mental shake and held it up. "Chris, is this Malcolm Cox's scarf?"

Chris finally looked up. "No, Boss. All evidence for that case were kitted up and sent over for the trial."

"Did anyone see who left the parcel?"

"It were there when I got in, and I was first this morning," came from somewhere in the back of the room.

Ray snorted. "Looks like you've got yourself a secret admirer, Boss." Then he murmured to Chris, "We'll never hear the end of this."

Half out-loud, Chris replied, "Maybe t'were Annie."

"Maybe Annie what?" she asked, walking into the room. Sam held the scarf up for her.

"Put that away, Boss!" she half-hissed while pushing his hand down. "You know that drives the Guv crazy. You're lucky he tolerates you in his squad room, bein' a known Red. Jus' ask Ray what happened when the Guv caught up with him before the match!"

Ray just shrugged and tilted his head so that his blackened right eye was lit clearly. "Weren't nowt he hadn't done before, an' he were more upset about me skivin' off the raid."

"If your scarf were blue, your face wouldn't be, now would it?" replied Annie with the tiniest bit of a smirk. "Why do you have that?" she asked Sam.

"It was here when everyone got here this morning. We thought maybe you…" Sam trailed off.

Annie looked around the squad room, aghast. "Me?" None of the others would meet her eyes.

She turned back to Sam. "No, Boss. That wouldn't be proper at all, not to mention getting us both in trouble with the Guv. T'wasn't me." She turned and walked out the way she came, not even having done whatever she came for.

"Tyler!"

Sam whirled, scarf still in hand, to find Gene standing in his office doorway. He quashed the desire to hide it behind his back like a boy caught sneaking biscuits. "Yes, Guv?"

"If yer quite done chatting up the plonk and waving that perversion around fer all to see, do you think you could see to policing the city? Get in here, now. An' get that thing outta my sight." Gene spun around and disappeared into his office.

"Yes, Guv," muttered Sam. He stared at his desk a bit, started to shove his scarf in a pocket of his leather jacket, decided against it, and put it in a desk drawer. Then he stalked into Gene's office to start the day.

==##==

Nelson, for reasons unknown, had refused to lock them in that night. It could have been that the lot of them were already thoroughly pissed. Sam confiscated Gene's keys far more easily than usual, and was none to steady on his feet himself as he walked Gene home. The Guv insisted, probably for the best, that Sam not drive his beloved Cortina.

It was a chilly, miserable evening, damp enough that the cold seeped through every layer of clothing and headed right straight for the bone. Sam shivered despite the extra heat coming off Gene, who still had his heavy camel coat open and was using Sam as a human walking stick.

"Cold?" slurred Gene. "No wonder, y' daft git. Where's yer scarf?"

"In m' pocket," muttered Sam.

"Well, won't do yer swan-like no good there, will it? Put it on."

Sam leaned Gene against a street lamp. "Thought you wouldn't tolerate it," he groused as he wound it around his neck. Had Gene really called his neck "swan-like"? One of them must be _incredibly_ pissed, he decided.

"Not at work, no. But a night like this is what a good wool scarf is for. I don't begrudge a man some warmth, even if it is an inap... inapprop… the wrong bloody color." Gene resumed leaning on Sam, and they continued on their way.

Sam pushed Gene up the steps to Gene's door, unlocked it, and handed Gene his keys. Gene leaned down so his mouth was next to Sam's ear. His voice was low, and his breath against Sam's cheek caused him to shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. "If yer don't wear it, Sammy-boy, I'm gonna think yer don't care fer it. Now get on home, me little deputy dawg, before yer shake yerself t'pieces." He walked in the house and shut the door in Sam's rather astonished face.


End file.
